


The Third Night

by sydchan



Series: The Secret Life of “Pets” [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, but not actually described
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydchan/pseuds/sydchan
Summary: It's the first night since Laurel's recent acquisition into his new home that Master hasn't taken him to bed.  And try as he might, he can't calm the troubled thoughts that brings to mind.  Not on his own, at least.





	The Third Night

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the long going collab between [necropyromancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/necropyromancer/profile) and I. While this technically takes place in both an omegaverse setting (sort of) and my Pokemon next gen AU, since you can’t actually tell either of those things from this, I didn’t tag it as such. Most of these characters also belong to necropyromancer. Laurel is the only one who's mine. She made a post briefly explaining who they are [here](https://pokemon-legends-and-legacies.tumblr.com/post/184210118803/how-do-bertram-poppy-and-cyril-go-missing).

"Ungrateful fool" Laurel thought to himself. Here he was, warm and comfortable in a sea of blankets, belly full from the hearty dinner they had eaten a few hours previous, injuries wrapped and treated, finally on their way to mending after how many months of abuse, and all he could do was lie there and think about how this was the first night he hadn't been taken to bed by Master. While his new master, Harrod, had paid attention to him throughout dinner, having him sit on his lap while he alternated between feeding the two of them, once the evening had progressed and it was time to retire to the bedroom, he had motioned for his blond pet, Bertie, to join him on the bed. He himself had been sent over to rest with the other two unbeckoned pets. Ready to assist if called on, but ultimately uninvolved with the nights activities. 

Laurel had sat posed throughout, waiting to see if maybe perhaps Master would call on him to join. While his two companions had relaxed amongst their makeshift bedding, he himself had stayed on alert, hoping his diligence would mean that if one of them was called, it would be him. But even after the blond’s moans had faded, Master had simply bid the rest of them good night before pulling Bertie flush against him, settling in for the evening. He could hear the heavy breathing of the man mixed with the soft exhales of the blond currently wrapped in his arms, both clearly asleep. Laurel had tried to make himself comfortable after that, get some sleep as well, but his mind wouldn't let him rest.

He had only slept in Harrod’s bed for two nights and already he craved the man's presence. His firm chest pressed against his back, held close by his thick, strong arms. It made him feel wanted. Dare he say even cherished. And now that Harrod had wanted one of his other three pets for the night, he felt like he had been thrown away. Insecure. That perhaps Master was already tired of him. Come to his senses and realized what a broken mess he was, beyond repair into anything useful. 

Which was stupid of him. He knew Master wasn't going to focus all of his attention on him. He had three other pets to lavish his love on. All three of them having been with the man much longer than his meer two and a half days. The blond, Bertie, had even had Master's children. Two little twin boys, just barely seven months old from what Bertie had told him when the trio had been showing him around while Harrod was gone for the day. Of course the man would want to spend time with the mother of his children. With all of them, depending on his mood for the night. With four pets, of course he'd switch up who he took to bed each night, even a man with the impressive stamina he had couldn't be expected to have each of them every night. 

Laurel tried not to shift, not wanting to alert any of the others he was still awake. But he couldn't help his fidgeting, anxious mind not allowing his body to stay still. And how stupid of him was that. He had faced so much worse than being left to sleep comfortably by himself for the night. His other master, although he supposed he wasn't Master anymore, had never given him any comfort when he slept. Left him on the hard floor in his cellar to try and find whatever warmth he could, curled in on himself. Already he had received so much more from Harrod than he ever had from...Gret. It felt wrong to think of the man by name. He had always been Master and under no circumstances was he to ever refer to him differently. Even now he felt a pang of fear thinking of the man. If Harrod didn't decide he was worthless and sell him back, maybe Gret would come back for him, demand his toy back to have him fulfill whatever the final task he always threatened him with was. One last show for the world to remember him by.

A gentle touch on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts, and he couldn't suppress the way he jolted away, a flash of panic going through him. The hand retreated, but he could feel the one who had touched him from behind shift just slightly closer to him. 

"I'm sorry," was whispered behind him, the voice so low he could barely make out the words over his own panicked heartbeat. "I wasn't trying to scare you. I just noticed you couldn't sleep either."

As quietly as he could, Laurel slowly turned over, coming face to face with the redhead of his new companions, Cyril. The one who had been there when he'd first met Harrod, dutifully trailing behind the man as their masters had met to discuss whatever it was men like them met up to talk about. And then later that evening, laid but a few feet away from him, body underneath Gret's while he himself had been spread out beneath Harrod. Sweet nothings whispered into his ear as the man brought him pleasure he scarcely felt whenever he was used. He had been so starkly different from Gret. Harrod changing his angle until he found a spot that made him sing, firm in his thrusts, but still gentle enough to minimize any pain he felt from his constant injuries, never fully able to heal from nights spent with his then-master. 

Once the two men had finished with them and briefly left the room, the redhead had turned to him, shifting closer until he was near enough to speak without fear of being overheard. "Stay strong," he had whispered. Reaching out to take his hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze. "Just hold on a little longer, okay?" 

His words had seemed odd and out of place. Sometimes other pets would talk to him, but they always avoided talking about his current state of abuse. His master had a reputation, and perhaps in an attempt to protect themselves, they ignored the injuries that littered his body, at least in their words. If they drew attention to it, it was in their actions, perhaps letting him lean on them a bit more if they were performing together, being mindful of his injuries when they moved against him. So for the redhead to say something about it meant he must be visibly nearing his breaking point. Clear to any that looked at him that he wasn't going to last much longer. 

But then Harrod, by miracle of all miracles, had bought him shortly after that encounter. Decided something about him was desirable enough to make him his own, save him from whatever grim fate awaited him had he been left with Gret. And at least two of his pets had welcomed him amongst their rank with open arms. Bertie, doing his best to explain the ins and outs of his new home to him and Cyril, always close by as a comforting presence. It was only the third one, a black haired boy who appeared younger than him named Poppy, who wasn't all warm smiles and gentle gestures. But he had simply been standoffish over outright cruel, presumably wary of a newcomer throwing off the status quo.

While it was difficult to make out Cyril's features from the minimal lighting in the room, he looked to have that same gentle smile he had showed Laurel over the past two days. Soft and reassuring. A quick glance to the two on the bed showed that Master appeared to still be sleeping, not woken by the quiet words the redhead had spoken to him. 

"Don't worry, he's a sound sleeper" Cyril responded, catching what was making Laurel nervous about exchanging conversation with each other at this time of night. "It helps to be close to someone if you can't sleep. The three of us are all used to sleeping together. If you're okay with it, it's fine to sleep next to Poppy and I. We don't mind."

Cyril shifted a bit, lifting the corner of the blanket he was under to make space for Laurel to curl against him, if he wanted. He was struck with a moment of indecision, not sure what the right move would be. But if there was one thing he had learned over all these months, it was to never turn down what minimal comfort he could get. And since this seemed unlikely to end with Master angry at him, he moved closer to Cyril, close enough that when the teen dropped the blanket, his arm rested around his torso. The redhead pulled him closer, grip gentle the entire time. Had he wanted, Laurel could easily have pulled away. He instead moved closer, pressing himself against Cyril's torso, the warmth of another body against him finally putting his mind at ease. 

Cyril didn't say anything after that, just kept his arms around him. He pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, lips warm and gentle, before he seemed to settle down beside him. Laurel could tell that their final companion moved closer as well, Poppy having been cuddled up behind Cyril’s back before the redhead had moved closer to him. He made a tired grumbling noise, but didn't seem to have woken up. Simply moving closer to reclaim the warmth Cyril had provided. 

It was to the gentle breathing of his companions that Laurel finally found rest that night. Anxious mind lulled to sleep by the gentle warmth of the one who held him in his arms. Before he drifted off, he had the final foolish thought that perhaps the arms of Cyril felt even nicer wrapped around him than Master's had.


End file.
